


Wasn't Ready For It All

by winterschild



Series: X Factor Judge Louis and his Stupid Boyfriend Harry [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Exes to Lovers, Famous Harry, Famous Louis Tomlinson, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Post-One Direction, Song: To Be So Lonely, Songfic, X Factor Judge Louis Tomlinson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:48:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25374922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterschild/pseuds/winterschild
Summary: Before Louis and Harry came out, they broke up.  After they broke up, they ignored each other for two years.  This is the story of how they got back together.Inspired by "To Be So Lonely"Title taken from "To Be So Lonely" by Harry Styles*Part of the X Factor Judge Louis and his Stupid Boyfriend Harry Series. Can be read separately, but recommend reading all for reference.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: X Factor Judge Louis and his Stupid Boyfriend Harry [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727056
Comments: 7
Kudos: 79





	Wasn't Ready For It All

“Are you okay, H?”

“Fuck, what time is it?”

“Harry, it’s three in the morning. Are you drunk?”

He pulled the phone away from his ear, looking at the time; sure enough, the clock said 3:01. Harry snorted, putting the phone back up to his ear and taking another drink from the glass in his hand. The whiskey burned on its way down, but it had become more tolerable, as he had been drinking since eight in the evening.

“Harry?”

“Sorry, Lou. I don’t think I meant to call you,” Harry stated. He giggled into the glass, shaking his head, “No, that’s a lie. I did mean to call you. I miss you.” The glass clinked as it hit the piano, and Harry slouched against, pressing his face against the cool surface. 

He heard the Doncaster man sigh on the other end, probably shuffling to sit up against the headboard—he was always there to listen to Harry, no matter what. Harry loved that about him. After Louis was situated, he asked, “Are you alone?”

“Yeah. I’ve been at home all evening.”

“H,” Louis breathed frustratingly. “You shouldn’t be drinking on your own. You don’t control your intake and you know how you get when you drink too much.”

“I miss you, Lou,” Harry whispered, hands ghosting over the keys on the piano. He pressed the G, holding the note despairingly. “Miss you so much.”

“I really think you should go to bed.” Harry didn’t respond, just began to fiddle with the keys on his grand piano again, ignoring the higher-pitched voice of his ex-boyfriend, and best friend. He wished they had never broken up. It had been one of the hardest decisions he had ever made—walking away from Louis. Why did he ever walk away from Louis?

“Because we were toxic, Haz. We were too young—it wasn’t our time yet.”

“I said that out loud?”

Louis sighed again, then Harry heard some rustling. “Just how much did you have to drink, H?” Harry shrugged, disregarding the fact that Louis couldn’t see him through the phone. Louis took his lack of response as one, inferring, “You just shrugged, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Alright, H,” Louis breathed while more rustling followed. “I’m on my way over. I have my key, just don’t drink anymore, okay?” Harry grunted in response, lifting his head up from the piano and looking at the near-empty whiskey bottle. He rolled his eyes, hanging up his phone, and reached for the bottle, completely ignoring the glass and taking a swig. Harry shuttered as it went down, but he was satisfied with the feeling it gave him.

He finished off the bottle, laying down on the bench and letting it tumble from his hands to the rug beneath him. He watched the ceiling, letting his thoughts wander to Louis—everything was always about Louis. It had been hard, leaving Louis. He had never wanted to leave him but at the time, that was what he felt was the best solution. Louis was right: At the time, they had been so young and toxic. Even if it was only two years ago, a lot can change in two years.

You can lose a parent or stepparent, lose a sibling, have your heartbroken, move houses, release an album, or be in a movie. On top of that, you can realize what you almost lost. You can write song after song about how much you miss them, but it takes time to realize what you could’ve lost. Harry had been so thankful when Louis had called after two years—when he showed up at his front door to have a conversation, he couldn’t have been more ecstatic. It had hurt Harry ever-so-slightly when Louis told him they had to start as friends, but that’s okay because Louis was back in his life.

Fuck, they were just so fucking young—Harry was just a little boy. He was only sixteen when he had fallen for the love of his life, who was eighteen—children. They were children and they hadn’t been prepared for everything that was to come. He couldn’t be blamed though, for falling so young—for falling for Louis. Louis was the epitome of perfection. He was so confident, with his loud mouth and the way he carried himself. He was so protective of Harry, and he loved to touch him. Louis’ hand was always in his hair or over his shoulder—of course, Harry was going to fall in love with him. How could he not?

It wasn’t that Harry had asked to fall in love so young, and then have his entire relationship controlled by some stupid old men with baggy, expensive suits making bank off their lives. On one hand, Harry wasn’t expecting it to be perfect; gay men, especially in 2010, weren’t excepted yet. On the other hand, he also wasn’t expecting his boyfriend to be forced into a relationship with a woman for three years and himself to be paraded around like a manwhore.

“Harry, where are you?” Harry perked up, lifting himself into a seated position on the piano bench again. He watched as the small silhouette of Louis stood in the archway, hand propped on his hip and oversized hoodie engulfing his petite frame. He walked farther into the room, slightly disappointed but caring eyes watching the drunk man carefully. He could see him better now—it was clear that only a short ten minutes ago, Louis had been asleep, snuggled with Cliff in his king-sized bed. His hair was messy and eyes bleary, but he looked gorgeous as always.

Harry smiled at him sweetly taking in his sleepy appearance, “You look beautiful, sunshine.”

“H, come on,” Louis groaned, moving forward to pick the empty bottle off the floor. Harry just watched his movements as Louis placed the bottle on one of the side tables in the room. “What’s gotten into you tonight?”

“I miss you. And us. I miss you and me, sun,” he admitted, shoulders slouching forward in defeat. “Tom and I were writing this song earlier about Camille, and it made me think of you and us.”

“Is it a good song?” Louis walked over to the bench, placing himself next to Harry facing the piano. He kept his shining blue eyes on Harry’s as he just admired Louis’ face. Louis giggled, blushing slightly under the scrutiny, eventually turning his attention to the keys. “H, stop staring. Play me the song.”

“It’s not really about Camille as much as it’s about you, I guess,” Harry shrugged, suddenly bringing his attention back to the rings on his fingers. “I write a lot of songs about you, Lou. Too many probably.” Harry felt something catch in his throat, probably a sob, but he ignored it to place his hands on the keys. He began playing the first few notes, the repetitive motion him and Tom had discovered just earlier that day. His eyes fluttered shut as he began to sing the notes, all drunkenness disappearing and being replaced with the gaping loneliness that had pushed him to write this song.

“ _I’m in my bed—and you’re not here, and there’s no one to blame but the drink in my wandering hands_.” Harry felt Louis stiffen beside him, probably noticing the half-empty glass of whiskey on the lip of the piano. “ _Forget what I said, it’s not what I meant, and I can’t take it back; I can’t unpack the baggage you left._ ”

Fuck, Harry cheated on Louis. He never meant to. He never meant the words to come out of his mouth telling Louis how much he hated him and wished he had never fallen in love with him—why did he do that? Why would he tell him that? Why would he risk losing Louis because he couldn’t control his hands when he was drunk? Fuck, why was he drunk, now?

He faltered the keys slightly, recovering quickly into the chorus, “ _What am I now? What am I now? What if I’m someone I don’t want around? I’m falling again. I’m falling again—I’m falling._ ”

Harry took in a shaky breath, noticing the tears beginning to catch in his eyes but he powered through to the second verse. “ _You said you cared, and you missed me too. And I’m well aware I write too many songs about yo-ou._ ” His voice cracked and he stopped, fingers halting on the keys and a fresh tear falling down his cheek. He felt a soft finger brush it away, pushing him to look at the boy next to him, with sad eyes and a frown.

“I think we should get you comfortable, baby. Let’s get you out of these clothes, yeah?” Harry allowed himself to be picked up and supported on Louis’ weight as he was dragged to his bedroom. He stumbled slightly up the stairs, but he thought it went pretty smooth all things considering.

The bedroom was dark when they entered, the only light coming from the illuminated phone dock on his nightstand. Louis gently dropped him to the bed, where Harry promptly fell back into the silk duvet, sinking into the mattress. The smaller man got to work on removing Harry’s socks—he knew how much Harry hated wearing socks in bed.

“That’s a nice colour on your toes, H? Did you paint them?” Harry just hummed back a response and lifted his hand to show his matching nails. “Very pretty. Perfect with your skin tone, baby.”

Baby. Louis used to call him baby. He loves being called baby. Camille called him baby, but it never sat right with him—never in the same way it sat when Louis called him that. It seemed like he had ruined that word for everyone else when they had broken up.

Once the socks were tossed into the hamper, Louis began to unbutton Harry’s trousers, pulling them down his legs and off his ankles, leaving him only in his pants. Harry giggled slightly at the thought of their position but also tried to suppress the arousal building in his gut. It had been so long since they had been in this position—two years almost.

“Baby, I’m going to need you to sit up so I can take off your shirt,” Louis reasoned, tossing the Gucci trousers onto the other side of the bed. Normally, Harry would yell at Louis to be more careful, but the buzz and the moonlight were making him not care all too much. “Baby, sit up for me, please. I can’t pull you up when you’re drunk. You’re heavy.” Harry listened, sitting up enough for Louis to pull the t-shirt over his head before plopping back into his previous position.

“I saw you were back out with Eleanor today,” Harry slurred, closing his eyes as a headache began to grow in the back of his head. He figured it was probably alcohol-induced, but at the same time, it could be from the thought of seeing Louis with Eleanor again. Louis had made Harry aware that the stunt was starting up again—when he had mentioned reaching out to Harry again, his management thought it was best that they start up rumours again, just in case Harry and Louis were spotted with each other. It didn’t necessarily help, according to Louis, that he was spouting how proud he was of Harry in _Dunkirk_ in just about every interview that asked about.

Harry hated the stunts. He hated seeing Louis with other people. It was one of the reasons he drank so much. He promised Louis that he’d stop drinking as much and that he was working on his jealousy, but here he was doing both. And as always, Louis was here taking care of Harry.

Louis sighed, probably rolling his eyes in the process, “Is it really necessary to talk about her, Harry?”

“Just think it’s stupid. Why do you have to have another girlfriend?”

“Well, technically, baby, it’s the same fucking girlfriend. Someone had to take the heat for why I’m writing these love songs about missing someone.” Harry just rolled his eyes in response, rolling over on his bed to shove his face into his pillow.

He turned his head to stare at Louis, who just looked down at him. He questioned innocently, “Aren’t you laying down, sun?”

“Baby—”

“Please. I’m lonely.”

Louis let out a deep breath, reaching down to grab the hem of his jumper and pulling it over his head. He tossed it aside, only left in his Adidas trackies and a t-shirt, climbing into the space that Harry made for him. Once comfortable, Harry cuddled in close, laying his head on Louis’ chest listening to his heartbeat.

“You know, H, I’m not the happiest with it either.” Harry stayed silent, trying to keep the annoyance from sparking up and flying out of his mouth. Louis was being honest, and Harry was aware of it, but it doesn’t mean he liked it. “I know you don’t like it, but there’s nothing I can really do about it. If it’s not her, it’d be someone else.”

“I just don’t want to see you with anyone else,” Harry bit out, taking in the vanilla scent Louis carried. “That’s what caused our downfall in the first place and it’s fucking ridiculous. I wish you were just free.”

Louis released a bitter laugh, loosening his grip on Harry, meaning Harry tightened his. “Yeah, well, not everyone had that opportunity, H. I kinda got stuck with SYCO, not much I could do.”

“You didn’t have to sign with them again.”

“H, don’t talk about something you don’t know anything about. I’m not having this conversation with you while you’re drunk.”

Harry huffed, making a note in his head that they never talk about it, even when Harry isn’t drunk. Since Louis showed back up in his life five months ago, it had only ever been mentioned by Harry and ignored by Louis. Louis would never tell him anything, especially the bad stuff.

“You never want to talk about it, Lou,” Harry whispered into Louis’ chest. “Maybe if you weren’t afraid to be yourself, we would’ve come out years ago and never would’ve broken up in the first place.”

“What?” Harry pulled away, letting his hazy eyes search over the man in his bed—the love of his life. He didn’t look very happy, and it hit Harry that he might’ve said that louder than he intended. “You’re really blaming us breaking up on me? Last time I checked, I wasn’t the one who cheated.”

“You were the one who led me there while you were always out with your fucking ‘girlfriend’ or your baby mama.”

Louis laughed disbelieving, eyes going dark, and Harry watched how he bit his lip, pulling it between his teeth; he couldn’t believe how attractive Louis was. “You’re such an arrogant son of bitch, Harry. It’s always someone else’s fault, isn’t it?”

“I blame myself.”

“Not when you’re like this—which is more often than it should be.” They fell silent, the tension building between them again. This had been a problem they had experienced these past five months—having a conversation and it ending in a fight about their previous relationship. They were happening less and less—definitely a lot less than before—but they still happened, and it was normally a result of one of Harry’s drunk calls. Harry stayed quiet, thinking about how they had gotten here. It was his fault—cheating is never okay, even if it was nothing more than a kiss. 

Louis sighed again, drawing shapes on Harry’s naked back. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, baby. You’ve been doing so good.”

“Stop calling me that, Lou. Don’t call me baby. You don’t call your friends baby.”

“I—I’m sorry, baby. Fuck, I mean Harry.” Harry looked up, catching Louis’ eyes and green met blue. The tension from before faded instantly as they stared, and Harry remembered how he fell in love with those eyes—how he never fell out of love with those eyes. Nothing could ever compare to the Pantone blue of Louis’ eyes. No one could compare to Louis’ beauty like Louis can.

Harry wasn’t sure if it was the whiskey or Louis’ eyes, but he stopped resisting, pushing himself up from his laying position and situating himself on top of Louis. He placed pressure on his chest, closing his eyes and hesitantly leaning in.

Once their lips touched, it all stopped. The clock, the tension, Harry’s heart. It all stilled in the moment as he revelled in the taste of his lips, their shape. He remembered their shape so well and how they would slot in perfectly with his. This wasn’t the first time they had kissed since they had reunited—it had happened a few drunken times, but it never felt like this. It never felt so sure from both of them, but Harry just couldn’t let go.

“Baby,” Louis moaned, pulling Harry in closer and making the kiss deeper. He climbed on top of the smaller man, straddling his hips, where he noticed he still fit perfectly. He opened his mouth to allow Louis in, finding himself in a familiar spot, feeling comfortable. “Baby, I think,” Louis stuttered, pushing Harry away slightly, but wrapping his arms around his neck to keep him close. “I think we should stop. Friends don’t call each other baby, and friends don’t kiss.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be just your friend, sun.”

Louis’ arms dropped as he kept his blue eyes locked on Harry’s green ones, seemingly searching them for any falsehood lying beneath him. “I don’t know if you mean that, H.”

Harry moved off of Louis, dropping back in his previous position cuddling into his side. He allowed the buzz of the kiss to flow through his body. His confession was driving him crazy, stuck on the tip of his tongue for the last five months since they had the conversation at the dining table.

“I mean it, Lou,” Harry whispered, letting the silence wash over them and leaving Louis time to think.

“Let’s talk about this when you’re not drunk. Let’s just go to bed for now.”

“Can we please actually talk about it this time? Communication, remember?” Louis shuffled around, pulling the duvet over the two of them after he removed his shirt.

“I remember. Night, baby. We can talk tomorrow.”

Harry felt comfort wash over him as he took in the presence of Louis being there. He always slept best when Louis was there, and he was happy to have him back. “Night, sunshine. Love you.”

~

Harry stumbled out of bed, head pounding and half-naked. Somehow, he made it downstairs into the kitchen, where he had assumed the clanging that had woken him up was coming from. What he wasn’t expecting to see in his kitchen was a shirtless Louis scrambling across the floor preparing breakfast.

“I-Louis? Why are you in my kitchen?”

Louis stopped, cupboard slamming closed in surprise as he turned to meet the hungover Harry. Harry flinched at the noise, and Louis let out a giggle before apologizing. The shorter man scurried through the kitchen, reaching above the sink to pull out some headache medicine and filling up a glass of water. He escorted Harry to a kitchen stool and place the objects in front of him.

“I was just making you breakfast, you arse. It should be ready soon. Just finishing up the eggs,” Louis explained, his bum shaking as he strode from counter to counter. Harry was still confused, drinking the water slowly after popping two pills into his mouth.

He continued, “I still don’t know why you’re here in the first place?”

“You wanted to talk,” stated Louis, like it was the most obvious answer. Finally, it hit Harry: He had gotten drunk last night and called Louis. They talked, they fought and they—fuck. They kissed. And Harry had told Louis he wanted him back.

Harry allowed his head to drop to the counter with a thump as he cursed, “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Louis. I’m so sorry you had to see me like that.”

“It’s alright, baby,” Louis shrugged, setting a plate down in front of Harry and setting one down for himself on the next stool. Harry lifted his head, taking in the nice aroma of the breakfast in front of him and began to eat it. They ate in relative silence, making comments every now and again, but clearly avoiding the obvious.

Once Louis had cleared the plates, they had made their way into the dining room to sit at the table—it was always where they had chats like these. Harry set down two cups of tea—no sugar, no milk for him and only milk for Louis, just like always.

“H, I don’t know what you remember saying last night, but you mentioned something to me,” Louis started, fingers fidgeting with the teacup sat in front of him. He lifted it up, taking a gentle sip to distract himself. “You mentioned that you wanted to be more than friends.” Harry gulped, not having remembered that exactly, but obviously Louis remembers it. “I just need to know if you were being honest, Harry.”

He watched his ex-boyfriend, taking in Louis’ beauty, as Louis stared down at the table in front of him, clearly nervous for his response. It was moments like these that Harry specifically regrets messing up his relationship with Louis. They had both made mistakes, but he was so madly in love with Louis, that it will never fade. Even if they never spoke again, Harry was positive he would die still loving Louis. They had just been so young, so unfamiliar with the world and how cruel it was. Harry let Louis get hurt over and over again, while he just sat there writing songs about Louis and how much he wished for their freedom.

Things were different now. They were older; they were more in control, even if Louis wasn’t necessarily contractually free of Simon Cowell yet, but it was coming. It’d be here soon and Harry wanted to be there for when it did happen. Harry could imagine what life they would have if they were free, no longer held back by these images of being straight and womanizers. They could finally be happy, get married, move into their London home and raise a family there.

Fuck.

“I was being honest, Louis. There’s nothing I want more than us to be more than friends again. Not just lovers, but partners. Where we were before, but better.”

Louis took in a deep breath, just watching Harry’s eyes to make sure he was being honest. “Why are you just now saying something, H?”

Harry shrugged, answering honestly, “I was afraid of pushing you away? I had just gotten you back; I didn’t want to lose you because I was pushing too hard. I wanted you in my life in any capacity, even if it was just as a friend.”

“But you want more than that? You still have feelings?”

Harry laughed humourlessly, shaking his head like it was the most ridiculous question he had ever heard. “Not to scare you off, but I’m still in love with you, Louis. I never stopped.”

“What?” The teacup clattered onto the table, a little tea sloshing over the side, not like Harry cared much at the moment. “You still love me?”

“Of course, I bloody do, Lou,” Harry chuckled, dimple popping out as he smiled. “Why do you think Camille and I never worked out? She kept asking why I kept writing songs about situations we had never been in. Couldn’t exactly tell her I was still in love with you, but I think she figured it out.” His smile faded slightly as he lifted the cup up to take a sip. “You don’t have to feel the same way obviously. It’s been a while, but I’m hoping you at least feel something.”

“You idiot,” Louis laughed, forcing Harry to look up at him. “I still love you, baby. You’re not someone you just stop loving, you know?” They both laughed lowly, sipping lightly at their teas. “I guess, where do we go from here?”

“That’s up to you, Lou.”

“There’s a lot of things that have to change, obviously. If we’re going to do this, I can’t have a repeat of last time,” Louis spoke, seriousness lacing in with his words. “What happened last night, you drinking an entire bottle of whiskey, that can’t happen anymore, H. I don’t mind you drinking, but it scares me sometimes how much you drink.”

“I know. You know I’ve been getting better,” Harry explained. “And I’m sorry about the Eleanor thing last night. I can’t promise I won’t get jealous, but I’ve been figuring out new ways to handle it instead of taking it out on you. I’ve been taking up boxing again recently—hired a trainer and everything.”

Louis smiled at Harry, and Harry’s heart fluttered. “That’s great, baby. I’m so proud of you. Speaking of Eleanor, I don’t know when I’m going to get to come out. I’ve still got a couple more years before this contract expires—I mean, for fucks sake, I haven’t even put out an album yet, Haz. I doubt I’ll get rid of her before then.”

“I know,” Harry answered, moving his attention back down to his hands. “I understand that, Lou. We can work on it. I’m not letting you go that easily this time around. I’m not messing it up.”

“I think we should keep the two-week rule.”

Harry met eyes with Louis, a wide smile shining at the mention of one of their agreements. “Of course. And if we have to be away for more than two weeks, we reserve a week off for the other afterwards, and we still FaceTime at least three times a week.”

“Deal. I think we need to make a new rule too. One regarding our past.”

Harry just nodded. “Anything.”

“There’s obviously going to be a fine line that we’re walking on for a while—not everything is going to be perfect and I know that, H. However, this time we have to hold each other accountable. We have to talk to each other when we’re struggling. We have to talk about our feelings and not just write them in a song. It needs to be more than just silence or yelling when we’re angry.”

“I agree completely, Lou,” condoned Harry, reaching across the table to grab onto Louis’ hands. “But I need you to talk to me too, Lou. I need you to communicate and tell me when you’re upset, or having bad days, or don’t want to talk. I’m a bit of an idiot, and an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, who tends to think everything is about me. I need you to put me in my place.”

Louis nodded. “Okay. I will. I really want this to work, baby. I really want us to work. I want this to be a fresh start.”

“Deal. Fresh start. No talking about our past mistakes unless it’s necessary or bothering us.”

A soft smile found it’s way to Louis’ lips as he listened to Harry speak. He squeezed Harry’s much larger hands confidently, eyes softening as they just stared. “I love you, H. So much.”

“I love you more, boyfriend.”

“Can’t believe we ever tried to be friends.”

Harry barked out a laugh, quickly covering his mouth at how embarrassing the guffaw had been. “Yeah, that was definitely a stretch. Could never be just a friend with you.”

“I guess this means we’re going to have to talk to our managers, yeah?”

“Can’t wait, sunflower.” Harry was definitely okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading part four of the X Factor Series. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. There is more coming in this series, so make sure to stay tuned if you'd like more from this series.
> 
> A special shout out to Sab for making me a sad bitch and getting me to write this.
> 
> If you would like, feel free to drop a comment, leave a kudos, or bookmark for future use! You can pop over to my profile to see more of my works with various versions of Louis and Harry.
> 
> As always, remember to stay safe, wash your hands, and treat people with kindness.
> 
> ~winterschild


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